


Twist of Fate

by Somniare



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Frightfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Careful what you wish for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twist of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lewis_challenge Lewis Frightfest 2013 on LJ
> 
> Spook-read by AZombieWrites, BR and Britpick by Barcardivodka - thank you so much, m'dears!

* * *

 

James raised a hand to knock on Lewis’s door and paused when he heard voices.  He silently reproached himself for not calling to say he was on the way over.  Feeling put out, and jealous – _yes, you’re jealous, Hathaway.  Quit lying to yourself_ – because Lewis hadn’t mentioned having company this evening, James listened to see if he could identify his guest.  
  
“I don’t know,” he heard Lewis say. “I still think it all sounds a bit farfetched, though... you’re sitting right there, so I suppose anything’s possible.  Are you sure you won’t have a drink?”  
  
“Okay, you’ve twisted my arm; a small one, thank you.  I can assure you, Robbie, it’s quite real.  You’ll see.  Trust me.”  There was a brief pause, a breath of time.  “Oh, that’s a fine malt.”  It was a man’s voice, rich and warm, and the way he said ‘Robbie’ made James’s skin prickle.  
  
He knocked sharply.  
  
“Just a minute,” Lewis called out.   
  
James heard movement followed quickly by the sound of running water.  He bounced nervously on the balls of his feet, jumping when the door finally swung open.  
  
“James?”  Lewis stood there, more stunned than surprised to see him.  Monty was stretched full length behind Lewis’s ankles, his usual position for greeting guests.  “This is...  I didn't expect... What brings you here?"  
  
James thought Lewis was looking at him in the way the father must have looked at the Prodigal Son, which was quite ridiculous as they'd said good night to each other not two hours earlier.   
  
“Dr Hobson brought in the autopsy results as I was packing up to leave.  I knew you wanted to see them, so  I thought..."  He held up a plastic bag.  “I also have food.”  James doubted the Thai was going to be necessary now.  Since Lewis had company, he probably had plans.  
  
Unexpectedly, Lewis beamed brightly, as though James had said the most amazing thing.  “Well, you'd better come in then.  We can't eat on the doorstep.”  
  
James followed Lewis through to the kitchen, casually looking around as he did.  There was no-one else in the flat.  Monty leapt lightly onto the couch, curling up with his face half buried under the throw rug.  A single glass with a finger of whisky sat on the coffee table.  Curiously, a second glass stood upside down on the draining board, with several drops of water still clinging to its side.  
  
“James?”  Lewis laid a hand against his arm.  “Is something wrong?”  
  
“I, ah... I thought I heard you talking to someone just before I knocked.”  
  
There was the briefest hesitation.  “Telly. Switched it off when you knocked.”  Lewis took the takeaway off James, and moved towards the table.  “Make yourself useful and grab some plates,” he said with a grin.  
  
James let it go.  Perhaps it _was_ the television.  
  
Over dinner, they discussed the case.  The autopsy report confirmed the brutality of the young woman’s death, but provided no new clues, and they were also struggling to pin down a motive.  On top of that, the two people they believed were the last to see her alive had cast iron alibis for the determined time of death.  
  
“Time to call it a night, I think, James.”  Lewis rubbed his eyes.  “No point in going around in circles.”  It was barely 10pm.  
  
James left shortly afterwards, but instead of going home, he sat in his car, staring at the building long after Lewis's windows had fallen dark.  They were no further on in their investigation and, far from going in circles, they hadn't even drilled down through the few hypotheses they'd formed.   It wasn't like Lewis to stop throwing ideas around so early.  There was something Lewis wasn't telling him.  With a dissatisfied huff, James started the car.  Anyone else and he would have marched back up to the door and demanded an explanation.  But this was Lewis.  If it was important, he knew Lewis would tell him in his own time.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The following morning, DC Hooper appeared at the office door.   
  
“Sirs, you ah... You need to come and see this... Hear this... Now!" he stammered.  
  
James had never seen him so gobsmacked.  
  
They followed Hooper to an interview room, where two SOCOs were processing a young man dressed in a disposable white coverall.  His clothes were neatly folded inside evidence bags, and he sat passively as his fingerprints and DNA sample were taken.  The second SOCO was removing items from a large holdall on the table, bagging and labelling each as he did so.  
  
Hooper started to explain.  “His name’s...”  
  
“He’s confessed to our murder, and he’s brought proof.”  Lewis interrupted.  His tone puzzled James more than the actual words.  It was as though Lewis had expected this, yet couldn’t quite believe it.  
  
“Er, yes, sir,” Hooper stammered out, staring slack-jawed at Lewis.  
  
James studied the young man closely.  He was now alone at the table and a uniformed constable stood by the exit.  James gave a tiny jerk when the door to the observation room swung open and one of the SOCOs stuck his head inside.  
  
“He’s all yours, sirs.”  
  
It was the least complicated, and probably the most disturbing interview James had ever been a part of.  While the young man was very familiar with the victim, he was effectively unknown to her or her family.  It would have been weeks before he came to their attention, if at all.  In the holdall he’d brought the clothes he’d been wearing, and the hammer he’d used.  He was clear and concise in his description of the murder, providing details only the killer or an accomplice could have known.  The calmness of his confession chilled James.  He was charged and detained within two hours.  
  
At the pub afterwards James asked Lewis the question which had been plaguing him.  “When Hooper came in this morning, you knew what was going to happen, didn’t you?”  
  
Lewis didn’t answer immediately, settling back in his chair and stretching out.   
  
“Hooper knows better than to mess us around, so I guessed whatever it was would be related to the case.”  
  
James pushed.  “You didn’t ask ‘has he confessed’, you stated ‘he’s confessed’.  And you knew he had the evidence.  The bag could have held anything.  How did you know?”  
  
Lewis avoided making eye contact.  “Years of experience, James.  Years of experience.”   
  
Not entirely convinced, James grudgingly accepted Lewis’s explanation.  He understood gut instinct, and his was telling him to keep his eyes open.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
A few weeks later, out of the blue, Lewis invited James over for dinner.  When Lewis opened the door, James was amused to see him bright and cheery, almost bouncy.  Monty was sitting on the worktop, all four paws tucked neatly underneath him, looking happily smug.  When James scratched under his chin, Monty rolled onto his back and let James rub his tummy.   
  
His deep purr vibrated through James’s fingers.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you were both on something.  Have you won the lottery or something?”  
  
“I have a feeling something good is going to happen, and I feel like celebrating a little.”  
  
“Okay.”  James was bemused.  
  
James was more astonished to discover Lewis had cooked a beef stew with dumplings.  
  
“This was one of our Mark’s favourites.  I made a remark in passing to Lyn about how I’d cook more if it was easier.  She has her mam’s old recipe books and picked out some she thought I could manage.  Don’t worry; you’re not a guinea pig.”  Either James’s expression had given away his thoughts or Lewis’s ‘feelings’ were extending to mind reading.  “I had a crack at this last week and it worked out okay, and I thought you might enjoy something different.”  
  
It didn’t seem appropriate to tell Lewis the last time he’d eaten stew and dumplings was when he was in the third form, and he’d vowed to never touch them again.  
  
“Sounds delicious.”  He crossed his fingers behind his back and hoped his smile looked genuine.  
  
James felt a little ashamed for doubting Lewis – and Lyn.  The stew was far better than any he’d had in the past, and the dumplings had been light and tasty, completely unlike the doughy cricket balls he remembered.  He also had to admit the Guinness Lewis had served with it was a far better accompaniment than any of their usual beers.  Lewis accepted James’s compliments graciously.  
  
In the end, James's eyes had been bigger than his belly  He pushed his plate away, and stretched back in his chair to ease the pressure on his stomach.  .  
  
“So what do you think is going to happen?  Anything in particular, or is it just a general inkling.”  James was curious.  Under normal circumstances, James would have said Lewis didn't believe in premonitions or psychic ability – he would have sworn his life on it.  However, after the incident with their murder enquiry the previous month, and a few smaller occurrences, mainly involving the locating of some sentimental items thought long lost, James was beginning to wonder if Robbie was changing his thinking.  He considered who could have influenced him.  James knew it wasn’t himself, and he doubted it was Laura – she was far too practical; Lyn, perhaps?  
  
Lewis relaxed back in the chair and folded his hands over his belly.  “I wouldn’t want to jinx it by saying too much, but I feel I’m soon going to be a very happy man.”  
  
 _Oh, God,_ James thought, _he’s finally decided to get his act together with Laura._   James hated the wave of envy and loss which washed over him and forced it away.  
  
He swallowed down his bitterness and raised the glass of Guinness.  “A toast to happiness.  You can never have too much.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Two days later, James was startled and a little nonplussed when Lewis swept into the office, grinning fit to burst.  
  
“You have won the bloody lottery, haven’t you?" James remarked, keeping his tone as cheeky as possible.  
  
Lewis dropped into his chair and spun around to face James.  His eyes were bright, almost manic.  “I had a phone call from Mark last night.  He’s coming back to England – to Oxford.  He works in IT, for Sophos, and they’ve given him a three-year contract at their headquarters out in Abingdon.  His girlfriend’s gained a postgraduate place at the University, so they’ll be living in college at Lonsdale initially.”  
  
James hadn’t seen Lewis this animated since he’d taught him how to Skype, so he could see his grandson grow up without having to wait for the opportunity to arise to visit the family in Manchester.  
  
“That’s… wonderful news, sir.”  James very nearly said ‘utterly fantastic’ as in ‘what are the odds you’d cook me your son’s favourite meal in the very week he announced his homecoming’.  Perhaps Mark told Lyn his plans earlier, and Lewis’s subconscious had picked up on something Lyn had let slip.   
  
“It’s more than I’d ever hoped for, James.  Mark’s so settled in Australia, I thought he’d never come back, not even for a holiday.  And it gets better.”  
  
 _Better?  What could be better than getting the one thing you’ve yearned for for years?_  While Lewis had never spoken his wish out loud, James had seen the loss and longing in Lewis’s eyes whenever he spoke of Mark.  
  
Lewis was literally bouncing in his chair; James could hear the tiny creaks.  “Lyn’s moving back too.”  
  
“What?”  James cringed at his squeak of surprise.  
  
“Aye, I know, both of them back home!  I can hardly believe it meself.”  Lewis leant forward, his forearms resting on the desk.  James was relieved to see he was beginning to calm.  This was more the Lewis he knew.  
  
“Lyn rang about an hour after Mark.  He’d just told her his news, and she wanted to let me know her news before he called me again.  She put her name down for a transfer about a year ago – she never told me because she didn’t want to get my hopes up – and she was advised last week there was a place at the Churchill.  She hadn’t said anything because she doesn't have an exact date yet.”  A flicker of anxiety washed creased his brow.  “I keep expecting to wake up and find it’s all a dream.”   
  
“Let me assure you, sir, you’re very much awake.”  
  
Lewis rocked back in his chair with a contented smile.  “Three months.   Mark’ll be here in three months.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
Mark and Lyn returned to Oxford within weeks of each other, and James was swept into the whirlwind of activity which accompanied their arrival.  At first he’d been a little overwhelmed to be included in what were essentially family events, but soon relaxed.  He enjoyed spending time with Mark and Emma, and Lyn and Tim, and had been delighted when Lyn’s son Matthew had called him Uncle James.  However, recently he’d started to make excuses to leave early.  Lewis had arrived one Sunday with Laura on his arm, and from the way they looked at each other, James had realised their small group had grown from seven to eight.  He’d felt he would be in the way.  
  
James knew he had no claim on Lewis, the person he loved above all others.  He believed Lewis deserved to be with someone he could fully love in return – emotionally and physically – and he was certain that person could never be him.  James wanted to be happy for Lewis, and outwardly it seemed nothing had changed: their caseload permitting, Lewis and James still went to the pub on a Friday night, and when they were working late on a case, it wasn’t unusual for James to end up spending the night on the couch.  However, James had convinced himself that one day soon he would lose Lewis to Laura.  It weighed heavily on him and he was determined to make the most of the time they had together.  
  
James was saddened by the realisation that, as Lewis was getting everything he richly deserved in life, his own life was emptying.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
The persistent ringing of the phone dragged James out of a deep sleep.  It stopped as he struggled to sit up.  James silently promised himself he’d check his diary before agreeing to babysit for Lyn again.  Three hours with an active, vocal, inquisitive toddler on a Sunday morning were not recommended after a stag night.  But James had promised Tim he’d help Lyn out over the weekend, if needed, when Tim had to go up to Manchester for a seminar then work, and James kept his promises.  As soon as he’d arrived home, shattered, he’d drawn the curtains and shut the bedroom door.  
  
He tossed up between checking his phone and lying back down again.  _It could be an emergency._   He checked.  After his initial groan of disbelief on discovering it was nearly 7pm, he was surprised to see four missed calls from Laura.  James knew Laura and Lewis had plans to attend her sister’s 50th birthday celebrations in London last night, and they were making a long weekend of it.  It was part of the reason Lyn had asked James, and not her dad, to watch Matthew while she had attended a friend’s civil partnership.  Curiosity piqued, he called Laura back.  
  
“Oh, James, thank God.  I was beginning to think there was something wrong with my phone.  Could you be a love and ask Robbie to check his messages and call me back?  He must have accidentally put his phone on silent again.”  
  
 _What on earth?_   James frowned.  “I haven’t seen Rob– Lewis this weekend, Laura.  Isn’t he with you?”  
  
“He rang me late Friday to say something had come up and for me to go to London without him.”  She sounded puzzled but not worried.  “I assumed it was a case.  I’ll give Lyn a call.  I’m sorry to have bothered you, James.”  
  
She was gone before James could form a response.  He rang Lewis’s number and received no answer.  His phone rang before he could try again.   
  
“James, Lyn hasn’t seen him either.”  Although he’d anticipated it, the note of panic in Laura’s voice was both unfamiliar and unsettling.  “She’s going to go over and see what’s happened.  
  
The policeman in James took control.  “Tim’s away, so Lyn’s on her own with Matthew until tomorrow night.  Can you call her back now and tell her to stay home?  I’ll go around to Lewis’s flat and see if I can’t find out what’s going on.  I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
“Laura?”  
  
“Sorry, James.  I’m sure it’s nothing.”  Her voice clearly said otherwise.  “I’ll call Lyn.  Call me as soon as you can.”  
  
After shoving his feet into his trainers, James raked his fingers through his hair, pocketed his phone, grabbed his keys and wallet, and left.  
  
  
  
James pulled up in front of Lewis’s building and allowed himself to relax when he saw Lewis’s car in its usual spot and a familiar silhouette cast against the closed curtains.  He slipped the spare ‘for emergencies’ key to Lewis’s flat back into his pocket and removed his phone.  
  
His call went to voicemail.  He assumed Laura was talking to Lyn.  
  
“Laura, it’s James.  I’m at Lewis’s flat now.  His car’s here and I can see him inside.  I’m on my way in now. I’ll call you b – No.  I’ll get _him_ to call you and Lyn.  ‘Bye.”  
  
James knocked.  Monty’s yowl was quickly followed by footfalls and the soft clunk of the lock.  
  
“Sir, I’m sorry–”  The man before him bore a physical resemblance to Lewis, but it was not his governor.  He was immediately on alert.  
  
“Detective Sergeant James Hathaway.  I’m here to see Inspector Lewis.”  He flashed his warrant card and stepped into the flat.  The stranger didn’t stop him, leading him to the living area as though it were his own home.  
  
“Could you please identify yourself, sir?”  James kept one hand on his phone.  
  
“You did mean to ask for ‘Robbie’, didn’t you?” the man asked wistfully.  
  
“Please answer the question, sir.”  The hair on the back of James’s neck began to prickle  
  
“Such a shame,” the man murmured to himself.  
  
“What are you–?”  James exhaled forcibly.  “Who are you and where is Inspector Lewis?”  James’s initial irritation was turning to unease, and it wasn’t helped by the air of amusement coming from the other man.  
  
“Don't you recognise me, James?”  
  
James studied him carefully.  _The voice._   It was the voice he heard when he was standing outside Lewis’s door several months ago, and he was positive he’d seen those eyes previously.  Before he could bring anything to mind, heavy purring pulled his gaze down and Monty started to wind himself between James's ankles.  
  
James focused back on the man.  Questions and arguments raced through his mind, but as the man held his gaze the words became jumbled.  
  
“James, please sit down.  Would you like a drink?”  
  
The voice was mesmerising.  Another demand for answers died on his lips as he sat on the couch and held out his hand for the offered glass.  
  
“Would you like me to explain, James?”  
  
James nodded.  A part of his consciousness was screaming at him to do or say something, but he felt quite incapable at that moment of doing either.  
  
“It's really quite simple, James.  There were particular things Robbie longed for, and for quite some time, I should add.  I heard his desires and showed myself.  To his credit, he didn’t believe I could do what I claimed at first.  He asked many questions and sought proof.  Then he tested me one night by asking for you to arrive with dinner.  And you did.”  
  
James closed his eyes as he remembered the night Lewis’s surprise had turned to delight.  “I don’t understand,” he managed to stammer.  One part of his mind started to drop the pieces into place, while the other refused to acknowledge the picture which was forming.  
  
“Of course you do, James.  You understand perfectly.”  
  
James grasped at the one fact he knew was solid.  “There was no-one in the flat that night, only Monty.  Lewis wasn’t talking to anyone.”  
  
“Are you sure, James?  Are you absolutely certain?”  
  
For the first time in a very long time, James doubted his memory.  Lewis had said the television was on, but could he have been on Skype instead?  Try as he might, James could not bring up the image of Lewis’s flat that night.  
  
“Tell me James, didn’t you find it strange that a man you weren’t even aware of gave himself up for arrest?  Didn’t you find the close return of both his children a little too good to be true?”  
  
James stared at him.  He had thought them both remarkable twists of fate, but strange and unusual things did happen.  Fate was a fickle thing.  
  
“Robbie didn’t, James.  It was what he asked for.  Offered the opportunity to have anything he wanted, Robbie sought three major events: justice for a young woman brutally slain, his family to be closer, and to be able to share his life once again with someone he loved and who loved him.  There were some smaller requests as well, though they’re neither here nor there.  However, there are rules.  And there are consequences.  Robbie broke the rules.  Now, if there's nothing more.”  He rose to his feet and made for the door.  
  
With their eye contact now broken, James found his sense and his feet.  “Stop!  Who the hell are you, and where is Robbie?”  
  
“Ah, so it is ‘Robbie’.  Such a pity you couldn’t have said that to him many months ago.  You needn’t concern yourself with who I am.  I doubt we’ll cross paths again.”  
  
“We will if I arrest you.”  James was calling on all his reserves of self-control to not take the stranger by his shoulders and shake the answers out of him.  He was confused and uncertain.  _Said it to him months ago?  What difference would that have made to anything?_  
  
“And what would you charge me with _,_ Sergeant Hathaway?  I haven't done anything illegal – most certainly not by your laws.  Robbie brought his fate upon himself.  He knew the rules, he understood the rules, and, believing he was acting in good faith, he broke the rules.  The old magic did the rest.”  
  
“What rules?  _Old magic_?  This isn’t bloody Narnia.”  James now wondered if this stranger had slipped something into his drink.  
  
“Oh, James.”  The stranger sighed patiently.  “You have faith but little understanding.  Robbie didn't want to be alone any longer.  He was ready to welcome love back into his life.  The fates know who each person is meant to be with.  A wise choice brings happiness, but if you choose poorly... well.  I gave him due warning before he declared his choice, and now what’s done cannot be undone.  Detective Inspector Robert Lewis, as you knew him, doesn’t live here anymore.”  He clasped his hands in front of him, almost in supplication.  ”Now, if there really is nothing more, it’s time for me to move on.”  He walked up the passageway to the front door.   
  
James found himself frozen in place.  “At least tell me who you are, and where Robbie’s gone.”  
  
Monty ran past James's legs towards the man and, stretching his full length, pressed his front paws against the man's shin.  He reminded James of a penitent man prostrated in prayer.  
  
The man sighed resignedly.  “I’ve been called many things over the years, James.  You may call me... Monty.”  
  
James blinked rapidly, more confused than ever.  
  
The man looked down and gently nudged Monty away with his foot.  “Go on, get back.  You must stay inside.  The street’s no place for an inexperienced cat, Robbie.”  
  
James’s blood turned to ice.  
  
“Robbie?”  James addressed the cat in a hushed whisper.  It meowed piteously, and stared up at him with blue eyes that were as familiar to him as his own.

 


End file.
